The Altonevers

by Frederic Merbe

  “Where is Cider? where is that young old fool of heart?” The voice of the omnipotent woman says lovingly as she hugs the air from Ciders lungs, with a kiss on the cheek as a greeting.

  After a few suspenseful to seconds, to Anna, of not seeing the source of this Altos spectrum of color, a villainous mime steps out of the way, unveiling to her hue's magnitudes more luminous than the effulgence of Helios himself. With such vibrancy the light itself seems to be living, atomically alive in themselves thriving vibrantly around her. Each of the billions of shades in a single eyeful seem as though they’re reveling in their own relentlessly rising resplendence. Even the faintest speckle of light reflecting in the Baroness’ eyelash scorches Anna’s vision like a hot spike is ran through her retina. The afterglow enshrouding only her Vividness, is so crisp it makes the invisible seeming air around her appear as a mist of shimmering sapphire.

  Every time Anna flitters her eyes she see's and feels like it’s the first time she’d ever opened them for her frazzling mind to see. A thousand times a minute to the sight of a statuesque gilded age goddess standing before her. With legs for day, a head taller than most men in the room, and pin straight peekaboo platinum blonde hair flowing over the right side of her exuberant face, then falling to her bare shoulders. Always half asleep heavy eyelids cover half her enormous true blue iris, its lore that for her to bat her lashes is akin to the kiss of death to all but her closest friends. A small mole below her left eye and beside her perky nose only adds to her elegant attractiveness, luring any person into her soul illuminating gaze. Anna likes very mush that she has slightly taller than average ears, almost like that of a bunny, a flaw that endears her to adore her upon seeing her.

  The Baroness, her vividness Vivian, the head of leviathan studios, is a room dominating voluptuous virago vivifying every single thing in the metropolis from big to small, and pig to man, everything for miles past the city limits with pure polychrome emanating solely from the splendid presence of her being. Her sumptuous candy apple painted lips move sensually when speaking, She’s speaking directly to Anna whose eyes are hot as boiling magma, barely able to squint through Vivian’s vision enrapturing radiance to see her clearly. Anna's helplessly captivated in blissful attraction to Vivian’s evening gown that ceaselessly deepens into darker and darker shades of infinite black, as though searching for absolute oblivion before her very eyes. A ringing sings through Anna's ears, deafening her as much as her vision is blurred. She tries looking away, to the ground, but can't resist following the long slit showing the skin of Vivian’s thigh, drawing Anna’s blinking gaze back to the depths of her infinitely blackening dress. She slips deep into tunnel vision, ending with a mind bleaching flash of her vision drenched brain reaching past its capacity of comprehension. Anna wobbles on her feet intoxicated, Cider tries to catch her and the crowd comes together, swooning around her as she faints and falls. A place to feel home is the last thought Anna has before her vision vanishes to the moving pictures in the afterglow of her eyelids.

  * * *

  “A Phone call was received at 1:15 am. Saturday July first. Ms. Daisy, The Baroness' lieutenant, the second most beautiful of all the stages, aside only from Vivian herself. Drove out to a clam diner deep in the Drabs on the Baroness word. Taking a seat across a suave looking man, she began to move flirtatiously, gyrating in her seat, lifting a leg, reaching for herself, then executing the man in his seat. She picked up a notorious pan-Alto vault knocker, murderer, and jack of some trades. The girl, his moll, is wanted for questioning in the death of a Ribbit in another place awhile back. The three arrive to the Baroness theatre at 9:27 am.” A man's white gloved fingers punch from the keys of a typewriter, beating black ink onto one of the many pages of obsessively collected daily reports on Vivian and her every activities.

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  Breakfast with the Baroness

  Anna's ears are still ringing though her eyes are no longer stinging when she blinks. She's glazed over in the afterglow of a celebration’s morning after, hungover over a barely eaten brunch of bacon and tarts. The two are bathing in the sunshine of the ivy clothed mansion's expansive backyard. Sitting across from the acme of all coloration, her vividness, the Baroness Vivian, who's brimming in light bending spectral harmony emanating like wavering heat from her skin in broad day with a scenic view of a serene seeming spring lake over her shoulder. The lake scene strikes Anna with a sense of déjà vu, something of this place, it's blued grass and twisting tree branches reaching over the smooth water surface resurfaces from somewhere in her memory.

  “Are you okay darling, you seem dull,” Vivian says speaking slightly through her nose in a slow spoken waspy tone that was prevalent in the time of the talkies. Her eyelids are perpetually low as though she'd just woken up, as the two are from the waterfalls of champagne guzzled along with Daisy and the rest, Anna especially enjoying the light splintered under the glorious grand chandelier hanging in the heights of gilded age glamour as the centerpiece of the crown jewel of Vivian's spectral studio empire.

  “You drank quite a bit last night. You should eat something…stop pecking my dear” Vivian says lovingly.

  “Yeah stop pecking,” Cider says.

  “Carrots darling,” the Vivian says, “You have to take care of yourself. You don't want to age horribly do you?”

  “I guess, not…”

  “Harold, Harold. Yes, bring Carrots something to eat will you?”

  “Yes Madam,” says a stout penguin dressed butler with a cowboy’s hip holster holding his pistols. His bald head disappears into the ivy covered walls then reappears less than a minute later to place a piece of chocolate cake on the table in front of Anna.

  “This is sooo good. Like if chocolate ate chocolate,” she says with fudge frosting filling her face, that's gluing her mouth closed and her tongue to the roof of her mouth.

  “MMmm.”

  “Yeah, it looks good,” Cider says.

  “Decadent to the palette,” says Vivian.

  “NNn MMMMmmmMM” Anna hums obnoxiously toward him for having cake when he doesn't. He steals a bite with his fork.

  “I'll have some of your cake too.”

  “MMMmm nnnnMMmm.”

  “It's very goommMMMMnnmm,” he says with his tongue trapped in fudge filling.

  “Oh, Harold, Harold be a dear and get a glass of milk. Two glasses, thank you,” Vivian shouts to her trusted butler.

  “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. We have all the banks you'll ever need, the world is your oyster Cider, but you know that already. Oh I’m repeating myself, I’ve said all this last night.”

  “Thanks Viv, it's nice to see you and your bountiful, unmatched beauty,” he says.

  “Being fresh Apples? you know where flattery will get you,” Vivian laughs with her hand over her mouth. A habit that humanizes her to Anna, who’s thinking of how gorgeous she is, rivaled only by Daisy, who she thinks of as sexuality embodied, and Vivian as essence of elegant power ruling as a platinum blonde Cleopatra.

  “I seen her,” he says solemnly.

  “Who have you seen? I’m just dying to know,” Vivian asks.

  “Rebecca.”

  “Oh, that girl is something isn’t she. I did the best I could, but, work, work, work, you know. Anyway how is she? is she doing well?” Vivian asks.

  “She is. She’s as ruthless and seductive as ever,” he says eyeing his fingernails as subterfuge.

  “That's good to hear at least,” the Baroness says relieved.

  “She made captain. Alister seems to have a liking for her and her ravenous rages. Though most everyone else reviles her,” he says.

  “I hope she's careful. That man’s strings can quickly become a noose,” Vivian says.

  “Or a parachute. He’s not so bad, and he really does like her, even sent her after me.”

  “Cider, He's a death incarnate,” Vivian says.

  “Eh,” he shrugs, “one of many.”

  “That pale
skank with the hole in her....,” Anna says trailing off in realizing where she knows that lake from, even noticing the ghostly diffraction of a white rowboat bedded at its bottom ebbing at its surface.

  “Anna!” Vivian says playfully smacking her on the arm, “Skank? that's my daughter,”

  “Yeah Carrots. That's her daughter,” Cider laughs, as Anna spews milk from her nose to the table.

  “She was coming onto you,” she grumbles.

  “Of course she was, she's in utter love with him. But you Cider! how could you let her.”

  “I didn't,” he says.

  “You’re the boy she fell in love with from her story,” Anna says in shock.

  “Yes, but I’m not a boy, and she was just a girl then,” he says.

  “And I asked him not to,” Vivian sighs, “maybe I was too stern on her, but what can you do about those sorts of things.”

  “Oh I see,” Anna says “but you don't look anything alike,” she says as though asking.

  “It's in the legs and the eyes,” he says.

  “Actually come to think of it, yea I see it, but why is she so pale, with black hair and eyes?” Anna asks.

  “I was seduced by a mime, a long, long time ago. It’s probably where she gets her ravenous temper. Ha! that reminds me of my age,” Vivian says.

  “Eh,” she sighs.

  “Happens to the best of us,” Vivian adds, finishing off a glass of vodka with a smile, then lighting a cigarette on the end of the longest filter Anna's ever seen.

  “You don't look a day over twenty five,” she says.

  “Thank you Anna, sometimes a lady just needs to hear a thing like that,” Vivian smiles a bright smile.

  “What happened to flattery?” he asks.

  “Oh be quiet, you,” Vivian says, swatting at him. “A wonderful day isn't it. The birds are chirping, the cameras crews are running on almost every corner,” Vivian says as a group of hummingbird’s break from the branches behind her head and flutter through the air. Then an eagle swoops down and snatches one of the flock out of a life of living. An out of control helicopter spins through the sky with a muscular man hanging onto its nose, slamming on the windshield with his fists.

  “Idiots! can't they keep it to the sets. The whole city is a set and they can't even keep to that!” Vivian shouts, “anyway I've been seeing both your faces all over the daily pages and InterAltonews for months now. What brings you two love birds around here?”

  “Just walking the girl home,” Cider says.

  “What a gentleman,” says Vivian.

  “I could be,” he says.

  “Yeah, could be,” Anna says, bringing Vivian to laughter.

  “Well, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like, and you too Anna or Carrots? Anna I’d say, It's more lady like. Besides Daisy has taken a liking to you. She's already calling you her sister,” Vivian says.

  “Is she dangerous?” she asks.

  “No no, dear, well yes, extremely so. She's effectually insane, but not a drop of danger to you. You have nothing to worry about here, a friend, lover or whatever of this fool is a friend to her, to me and all of the Vaudevs alike,” Vivian says with affection.

  “Thank you, your very hospitable, and you have a very nice property,” Anna says as shy as a house guest, still a bit intimidated by her.

  “Besides it'll be good to have a hand,” Vivian says looking to Cider “The tonal tides are rising. My rivals are regrouping, I can feel it. There's been more challenges to my reign and even patches of dimming color popping up in some of the more, rambunctious places.”

  “There's always some,” Cider says.

  “This is a bit different. I suppose more steady, more personal in the places their choosing to hit. All of which are places of my past,” Vivian says.

  “Happy to help, pull my own weight and that,” he says.

  “That a boy. Remember the world is your apple to eat. Just do what you do best, and as much of it as you can. We gotta keep em on their toes before they're comfortable enough to stand,” the Baroness says.

  “Can do,” he says with a glow in his eyes. Free reign over the criminal enterprise in control of an entire Alto. Thinking of why he ever left the first time, then glancing over to the smooth water surface of the lake.

  “I'm sure you'll have a ball out there with Daisy and the boys, like last time. Due stay a bit longer though this time around will you,” Vivian says.

  “We'll it's up to her. Out of my hands you know,” he says.

  “Yours in hers? I've never known you to be monotonous. It's absolutely adorable, as is she. Now If you'll excuse me, I've got a day full of appointments. Make yourselves at home, though you especially Anna,” the Baroness says kissing the both of them on both cheeks before excusing herself with a wave and leaving the table losing its glow, and dimmer by the second as she strolls away. Stopping and shouting back to them from the open doorway “Sometimes it's the nicest thing just to have some one’s hand to hold” then disappearing into the ivy cover walls of her gilded age mansion. The helicopter returns to view, swaying until a rocket trails through the air, blowing the metal bird into falling flaming wreckage.

  It's been months of near bliss for the both of them. Cider taking daily delight in sweeping through the fading territories with Daisy, knocking over every place with a door. Holding up whole theatre's while in shootouts with scores of rival theatre troupes, and the armed zealots of the other syndicate studios. Number banks and brothels are overrun with bullets and blood splashing onto polished brass to shine like gold. Sufficing his lust for the heist and mayhem is as easy in this Alto as eating a dinner with friends. Happy to come home, when he does, to sleep like a baby on Anna's silk pillow.

  Anna's enjoying the days of endless summer sun. The architecture of art deco and new wave styled baroque ornaments and inlays in most of the places she’s been so far. Taking pleasure in looking for new colors, which are easy to find and gulping them down with her eager eyes. Strolling through the Sets, where everywhere in the city you are is a movie set. One day catching a deli clerk breaking character when she ordered a buttered roll, he looked away as though looking off camera for a cue, and saying, “Line,” lowly.

  “A buttered roll,” a muffled voice replied from out of view.

  Then strolling through eighties style action movies are unfolding all around her, and diners chock full of film noir charm. Everywhere she goes, in every cafe is a love scene or brokenhearted one. Spies and private investigators are creeping around and tailing people they deem as corrupt or communists. It's all in the script she was told when she asked Daisy about it. People living real lives with the thought that they’re actors playing their own lives as roles. Even in emotional expression of lovers on night lit bridges or in the throes of making love or giving birth, to each person here it's only their portrayal of them as themselves. She watches awestruck at first, but this sentiment fades when she starts to wonder if she herself is in some way acting through her life. Then from a learning that a smog that hovers above the spectrum city just after daybreak and before nightfall is from the broken souls of the almost stars, and neverweres who even in death cling to the unfulfilled fantasies of their own life roles. Despite this Anna’s happy, finally finding a place where the two can relax enough to feel at home.

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  A day with Daisy

  Knock! knock! knock! loudly shakes the solid wood door of Anna's bedroom.

  “Carrots, Carrrotts! come on, wake up. I know you’re in there,” Daisy yells from the hall. It's seven in the morning, a time when Anna isn’t awake unless it was from the night before. She’s awoken, with her head squeezed between her pillows, ignoring her bubbly friend like she were an alarm clock.

  “Carrrotts!”

  “Noooo,” she groans and Daisy hears her from the other side.

  “I'm coming in and I don't care if you’re dressed or not,” Daisy says, already in the room and standing over the half slumbering Anna, who'
s stubbornly refusing to even open her eyes.

  “Get up we have things to do.”

  “Noooo,” Daisy hears muffled from under the pile of pillows Anna's squeezing to her ears.

  “Yes,” the starlet demands.

  “What time is it?” she moans.

  “I think it's around seven,” Daisy says, already wired awake, and ready to meet the new day maniacally grinning a wide eyed smile with sunglasses sitting like a tiara on her very blonde head.

  “What? seven? in the morning. Go away.”

  “Were you always like this, or are his habits rubbing off on you? wait don’t answer that,” Daisy chuckles then strips the blanket from the bed like a waiter clears a table. Leaving Anna in her pajamas curling up and clinging to her pillow, then sitting up bleary eyed and hurling the feather bag at an evasive Daisy.

  “I’m up. What're we doing today, kidnapping a princess?” Anna asks.

  “Hahaha, maybe. I mean if you want,” Daisy says. Anna wakes up to a sight most men would die for, Daisy looking right back at her, rubbing her honey brown eyes as subterfuge for a second longer of slumbers comfort. Miming a yawn and really dragging it out, stalling to not have to get out of bed.

  “Come on. Stop dragging your feet Carrots. Get up.”

  “I'm up.”

  “I mean off the bed.”

  “I need to wash up,” she says, and stands at the sound of Daisy turning on the shower, and throws another drool filled pillow through the bathroom door.

  “Hurry up, don't waste water.”

  “Blah, blah blah blah, blah,” Anna sings into a melody.

  “I'll be in the car.”

  “Brle gky,” she answers through the water and closed door. The two chic's are stalking through the congested parkways in Daisy's sleek powder blue Saoutchik like a tiger moves through the woods. Already trading paint when sideswiping two cars and plowing through busy intersections. Daisy is a notoriously terrible driver, not terrible but ambivalent to anyone else being on the road at all. It's not entirely her fault though, her beauty stops traffic so often she crashes when traffic doesn’t stop around her. Anna braces for her life as she tosses around the passenger seat when the car harshly swerves and turns, and violently drifts around corners. Daisy drives much like she lives, quickly and recklessly, almost never letting off the gas.